Assassin's Tango
by Water08Witch
Summary: When a brotherhood assassin gets sent to jail, guilty and ready for execution, things aren't looking too hot for her. Not 48 hours later, the emperor is assassinated and the entire country is in turmoil. Can she close shut the jaws of Oblivion and save Tamriel, all while protecting her Sanctuary from a an unknown traitor? HoK x Martin Septim & HoK x Lucien Lachance


The Sanctuary was intimidatingly quiet, the only connection to life outside was the constant pattering of rain against the well accompanied lighting. Denae's body was made of wood in the storm, her eyes heavy and her body unwilling to correspond.

Each crack of thunder brought a new plaguing thought to her mind.

" _You chose a bad day to take_ _up with the cause of the Septims…_ "

The assassins haunting words echoed in her mind like an echo in a canyon. What did the assassin's words mean? Jaws of oblivion? All these thoughts frustrated Denae…

Her gloved hands absentmindedly traveled to the scarlet diamond shaped amulet in her bag. The jewel felt starkly colder than the Sanctuary's iconic atmosphere, it's icy lifeless form served as a friendly reminder of the emperors death a few days prior.

Immediately after his death, Denae fled to the cheydinhal sanctuary, not even giving the weynon priory a second thought. The haunting but homey dungeon was the most comfort she could've received after the persistent guilt of the emperors demise. Contracts remained untouched in her confusion and grief.

 _Don't be squishy_ , her thoughts would prod. But squishy she was.

"Welcome back, sister! You are like a gift from the night mother herself."

The Bosmer jolted and as if it were sentient, the amulet of kings slipped into her pack. Denae turned to where Vicente Valtieri stood. The vampire lifted his brow at her sudden jumpy behavior, and denae felt his questioning eyes bore into her. Letting go of her negativity, she sat upright and smiled to her favorite dark brother, who had taken a seat at the chair parallel to hers.

"Well look who it is! Vicente, your a lovely sight as per usual."

"You flatter me, sister. I shan't lie, Vampirism certainly has kept my charm fresh," he procured a remarkably toothy smile, one that would make the greener recruits collapse.

"Where is everyone? I thought they'd be back by now…" she mused aloud to Vicente. The vampire tapped his chin. "Telaendril is out scouting, Mraaj-dar is on a special contract from Lucien, Antoinette at the inn's bar , and the Argonian twins are out hunting, or so they told me. Sithis knows where Gogron's at- presumably a tavern drinking his brain cells away."

Vicente picked up Schemer, the sanctuary pet, and began to massage the rat's belly. Schemer squeaked in earnest to vicente, rewarding Vicente with chortles whenever he scratched the sweet spots.

The Bosmer grinned at Vicente and his recently friend but quickly furrowed her brow upon a new resilient thought. The ancient wood of his chair squeaked as he leaned back

"Is there a reason for such a look? Should it not be a time for celebration for your recent promotion? It's not everyday a member of our sanctuary becomes an eliminator rank."

"If I celebrate too much I might just end up like Gogron," she snickered. "Something came up I suppose. It really is urgent and I should've been on the road by now.." looking back, coming to the sanctuary was a stupid choice.

Vicente smiled and studied her closely, as if she were hiding something. She lifted her brow cheekily in return.

"Speaking of that urgent thing, I'll be out for the next few days. Do you have any contracts I could take along the way? I've stalled too long on receiving one." He nodded curtly and gave a roll of paper assigning her contract.

"Unfortunately your absence is exactly when Speaker Lachance plans on visiting the sanctuary, so I'll have to tell him exactly why you aren't here to report," Vicente leaned in, his eyes boring into hers "A bit of advice in advance, do not miss the next time he visits. On occasion he allows raw members to slide but there are no second chances with Lachance, you may have heard."

"Of course, Vicente," she fidgeted with her long strands of hair and swallowed the thick lump in her throat. "This is rather a rare occurance…"

 _Well it's not everyday an emperor gets killed,_ denae added _._

She abruptly stood and hastily tied her sandy hair into a bun. The vampire leaned forward into his seat across from her, his seemingly inquisitive look consuming her. "Might I ask what exactly is keeping you from our beloved family?"

"Lets just say an entire bloodline is in my hands…"

—

A few days later, Denae and her feet were cursing the entire existence of the damn Septims. Upon meeting the monk, he immediately set her off to Kvatch to find the emperors bastard son, Martin. Even though the monk was rather condescending and skeptical toward her story about how and why she gained possession of the amulet, he sent her after the secret heir. Humans are weird.

She walked from Chorrol to Kvatch in three days, growing more insane and irritated each day. Purchasing a horse would've been a better idea, now that she thought of it.

As she grew closer and closer to Kvatch, she knew something was terribly wrong, the twisting and turning in her gut refused to go away. This isn't normal. Your going to get yourself killed

She trekked up the winding roads that led to the entrance of Kvatch. A refugee camp of people people greeted her depressingly, their faces filled with soot and their eyes weary. The children of the camp looked up at her solemnly as she passed, giving the Bosmer an uneasy feeling.

Suddenly, the sky grew from its midnight blue to sickly crimson in a span of seconds.

There Kvatch stood, in all its destroyed hellish glory.

—

"Brother Martin?"

Martin jerked awake from his spot on the pews and quickly unsheathed his dagger.

"Martin! It's me! Oleta?" The old woman hesitatingly placed a hand on his shoulder, immediately snapping Martin out of it. He blinked twice before taking a deep, disappointed breath.

"My apologies Oleta. These nightmares are getting worse each day," Martin rubbed a calloused hand across his face. He didn't mean to startle Oleta, but it still felt terrible to feel helpless. He sat up from the stiff wood of the chapel. It was his turn to sleep-giving him some time to catch up on sleep- while the other priests and priestesses tended to the wounded. Well the ones that stayed in kvatch, the imperial remarked dully.

But at the moment he noticed a familiar kvatch guard smiling and speaking to the other guards of- success?

"It's quite alright, brother," oleta's wrinkled mouth quickly changed into a smile. "But nevermind that! The guards just sent word the gate has been closed! We're safe!"

He looked at the woman dumbfounded. The gates closed? The entire city had been destroyed in the 3 days since it reared its ugly head. The daedra killed more and more innocent civilians each day that passed. He was certain he would die in that chapel.

But who could've done such a thing?

Suddenly the chapel doors slammed open, revealing an army of kvatch guards marching in, like wooden soldiers on a clock. But one figure wasn't like the rest of the stocky men. The hooded figure was certainly not a regular civilian telling by the body shape. They were a toned female, neither lanky or muscular. With nimble fingers resting on her hip quiver, she scammed the room until her frenzied eyes settled on Martin himself.

She began to fast walk toward him.

Before he could utter out a single "fuck", she grabbed his hand and gently tugged him.

"Are you Brother Martin?"

She asked softly, like a friend would to another friend. It seemed like she was trying not to scare him.

He gave a small nod and at an instant the short woman was pulling him toward to the exit. "Wha- what in oblivion are you doing?"

"We need to go. You are in terrible danger Martin," she said shortly. "I've been tasked by Jauffre to assist you out of Kvatch."

Martin quickly pulled his hand away from hers, earning him a glare from the hooded woman. She balled her fists, clearly frustrated with the imperial.

"That's _ridiculous_! Of course I'm in danger, the whole damned city is! I cannot leave all these people. They need a healer." His protests were futile as she gripped his wrist harder with much more strength than he expected someone of her size to have. Must be the archery.

"You think I don't know that, Martin? We must leave before they come." Now she was actually dragging him along. He quickly stepped back to evade her questionable strength.

"More people will be in danger if you stay put," she added with tension in her voice. "This whole city is safe now, the gate is closed and the daedra are dead."

"I'm not going anywhere with some stranger who states the obvious! What do you want with me? Do you need a priest? Unless your hurt, I will not speak to you further." He buffed and abruptly began to walk away before her hands gripped his shoulders and turned him to her.

She quickly pulled her hood off, revealing an olive skinned bosmer with tangled sandy hair pulled back into a collapsing bun (save for the amount of hair stuck to her sweat covered face). In the dim light of the chapel, he could see her furious eyes were a stark green against the soot plastered across her face like brush strokes.

"This answers your question of who I am. This entire fucking city is burned up because they want _you_. You are the late emperors long lost son, and you will come with me or Sith- _Mara_ help me I will carry this entire chapel to weynon priory myself!"

She huffed one last time and looked at the priest. His eyes were wide open and his fingers trembled like a child. _Oh no_...

Quickly regretting her outburst, the Bosmer's eyes shifted to the side and she offered her hand, delicate like her first attempt.

So this was the esteemed Hero of Kvatch…


End file.
